It was nearly 100 days into his presidency, and Donald Trump had spent half of his weekends as president at a private resort in Florida. There, in addition to playing golf, he held cabinet meetings, met with foreign dignitaries, and, while enjoying a candlelit dinner on the patio, reviewed evidence of North Korea’s ballistic missile testing. Many people criticized him for not spending enough time at the traditional home office of the nation’s chief executive. But the press secretary assured the nation that the president “carries the apparatus of the White House” wherever he goes.

As the weekend trips to Florida continued, the criticism continued. They complained and complained and drew charts and tables showing how much more President Trump spent on travel than President Obama, than Franklin Roosevelt, than Abraham Lincoln. On the last day of Trump’s presidency, a major newspaper posted a graphic showing that, on average, Trump spent more on travel in five minutes than George Washington did in his entire life. And so it was believed that this was the end of the dual residence president.

But the next president wanted to spend weekends in a cabin in the Adirondack Mountains of New York. Although a cabin in the woods was much quieter a fancy Palm Beach resort, so many tree houses had to be built to house the secret service, White House staff, and visiting dignitaries that the eastern meadowlarks and three-toed woodpeckers had to be relocated to the nearest Best Western, to the annoyance of animal rights advocates and hotel cleaning staff.

People figured that after a resort president and a nature president, it would be the end of the president spending half his time as president living someplace other than the White House. But the next president announced in his inauguration speech that he would be spending weekends in a cave. He assured the American people that because the cave had only one entry way, far fewer secret service agents would be required. And this was true, although cabinet members disliked having to sit upon rocks during meetings rather than chairs.

After the cavern president, people were no longer surprised at the president choosing to spend time at an alternate residence. In fact, they began to expect it. Getting to live wherever the president wanted became one of the perks and political prizes of winning the election. During the presidential campaign season, political commentators would analyze the candidates’ likely choice of residence alongside their views on domestic and foreign policy. And it was not uncommon to overhear ordinary people saying things like, “Yes, I think it’s time that America had a president who lived in the Cinderella Castle at Disney World.”

The “Presidential Residence Agent” became a permanent position on every presidential campaign staff as the candidates became more and more creative in their choice of residence. The effort paid off. One president wanted to spend his term voyaging under the seas like Captain Nemo. The army corps of engineers built a special submarine residence called the Nautilus which the radical liberal Marxist Leninist media dubbed the “Thought-a-Less.” And after that was a president who opted for a crystal palace at the North Pole, modeled after Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. There was international tension because of the proximity to the Russian border. But we removed our opposition to Russia’s plan to turn the Caspian Sea into a giant samovar, and crisis was averted.

And then there was the president who did not like to travel. Don’t ask me how he got elected. Obviously someone tampered with the voting booths. But nevertheless there he was, ready to move in to the White House and occupy it as his only residence…and it turned out that someone else was there. The White House had been shunned as a residence for so long that it had been leased to a group of elephant trainers, and the new president and his family had to live at the Hampton Inn in a room next to the eastern meadowlarks and three-toed woodpeckers.

Yesterday, the Shenendehowa Central School District held a public referendum on whether to sell 34 acres of forest to a developer. The issue was very contentious and generated a lot of argument and activity. The Friends of Clifton Park Open Space ran a great campaign to vote “no” and thankfully the proposed sale was rejected by the voters, 5,442 to 2,323. There is hope after all.

A few weekends ago I took the opportunity to hike through the 34 acres that have generated so much passion and pride. Below are some of the photos I took.

And it just so happens this is my 200th post! What a way to celebrate!

Remember when you were in school, and it seemed like the month of December that was after Thanksgiving but before the beginning of Christmas break, took an eternity to pass? When you’d think, “Oh, it’s only December 12th? Christmas will never arrive.”

Nothing like Christmas makes me aware of how fast the year goes. I feel like it was just that time of year when every other commercial is about men’s college basketball.

I wondered if there was a way to make Christmas start later. So I started a campaign on Facebook to move Christmas to mid-January or even February. And I got people to support me. I was very clever. I posted on people’s Facebook walls that I was tapping them for the “Christmas – Paper Towel Tube Challenge.” The challenge was to film yourself putting one of those cardboard tubes at the inside of rolls of paper towels. and speak into it like one would a megaphone.

It became very popular and before long I had a million Facebook users saying move Christmas to February 15 so that it would feel like the year was longer. There was a referendum and a very close vote, and more than one accusation of cheating.

But when all was said and done, the ayes had it and Christmas – the biggest holiday of the year – was moved to mid-February, a month and three weeks from its usual spot.

Oh sure, people loved the extra shopping time at first. But the next thing they knew, it was February 12, Abraham Lincoln’s birthday, and everyone was stressed out.

So there was another campaign on social media, and another referendum, and another close vote, and Christmas was now scheduled for May 22nd.

Why people did not foresee this causing conflict with graduation ceremonies and celebrations is one of the larger questions to arise from this episode. An easier question might be why they decided to move the holiday once again. Naturally they had another referendum – most people cast their votes early this time – and Christmas Day from the previous year is moved once again, this time to September.

This was later viewed, correctly I believe, as a mere stopgap measure. All voters, no matter yea or nay, knew that with the start of another school year, and the Jewish holidays, that a September Christmas was dead in the water. At the eleventh hour the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a create was stirring, not even a mouse, the Christmas from the previous year was moved to December 25th of the current year, so there would be two Christmases on the same day. People had to buy last year’s and this year’s gifts at the same time. Retailers never had it so good. And so it was decreed that henceforth every Christmas would be a double Christmas.

People still wait until the last minute to shop and are stressed out leading up to that minute. But the double the joy on the children’s faces more than makes up for it.